


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by TheNightComesDown



Series: The Pacific - Love Heals [2]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Just a touch of smut, M/M, Peleliu, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 03:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: Peleliu, D-day +1: Sledge and Snafu are separated from the rest of their mortar section, and have to wait for the right moment to push forward.Followed by: a flashback to their first night on Peleliu.





	Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> I swear that when I started writing this segment, I didn't intend for the title to be this accurate. It just kinda...happened.

As an enemy mortar whistled through the air, Eugene Sledge threw his arms over his head. The mortar hit the ground just yards away, throwing mud and shrapnel in every direction. He was wedged between two slabs of broken concrete, but the blast rattled his body and made his ear hurt something fierce. Beside him, Snafu Shelton was crouched low, weighed down by 40 pounds of mortar equipment. The sun beat down on them as they reached the midpoint of their second day on Peleliu.  


“How the fuck are we supposed to make it across the landing strip?” Snafu shouted over the monotonous popping of machine gun shells. “The Japs’ll tear us apart if we ain’t covered!” Sledge gritted his teeth as he dusted chunks of dirt off of himself and checked his pack – they were low on both rifle and mortar ammunition. The rest of their mortar section had made it across one section of the strip, but an ambush by Japanese infantrymen had required Sledge and Snafu to alter their path. Sergeant Burgin, their NCO, was aware of the situation, but was unable to help them; he was with the majority of their section, which had taken shelter behind the burned-out shell of an airplane, less than a football field’s distance away. Between them and the rest of their group was a potholed field, burning in some places with napalm fire.  


“We can’t move until they start shooting at something else,” Sledge answered, slamming his fist against the dirt. Sweat trickled down his face, and he wrinkled his nose as he felt a sticky wetness in his ear. Snafu reached out a dirty hand and wiped at Sledge’s neck, pushing his earlobe aside; his hand came away red with blood. _Dammit, must have burst an eardrum, _Sledge realized, pushing aside the pounding pain in his head. He reached for the canteen at his waist, and gulped down the last sip of fresh water in it. They had been camped out in this spot since the previous night, and wouldn’t be able to access water until the 5th Marines could capture the airfield and drive in trucks with more supplies.  
__

___Snafu washed his hand off in a muddy puddle as Sledge peeked over the concrete wall. Sgt. Burgin, too far away to call out to them, was waving his arm back and forth in an attempt to catch their attention. When Sledge had returned the gesture, his NCO pointed at the sky above the tree line. Sledge whipped around, and his heart leapt as he saw a group of fast-approaching black specks. Dive-bombers. He turned and grabbed Snafu’s shoulder._ _ _

___“Get ready to run,” he yelled in his ear, “someone’s called an airstrike.” Snafu reached up to check that the mortar was secured – the strap held it tightly above his pack. Knowing that they were out of sight of their comrades, Snafu grabbed Sledge’s collar and kissed him hard on the mouth. Their teeth scraped together as Sledge leaned into him.  
_ _ _

___“Don’t you fuckin’ die, Sledgehammer, you hear me?” Snafu growled as he broke away from the kiss. Sledge reached out to buckle Snafu’s helmet below his chin; as he met Snafu’s eyes, he nodded reassuringly.  
_ _ _

___“I’ll be right beside you,” Sledge promised.  
_ _ _

___The two sweat-soaked men crouched at the edge of the wall. Machine guns and anti-aircraft weapons started firing at the sky, and as the pitch of descending engines started to sharpen, the two men jumped out from their hiding place and sprinted across the field._ _ _

___As if expecting their attempt to re-join their group, mortar shells began to rain down on them; this only encouraged the men to run faster. Behind them, other sections of the 5th Marines advanced onto the airfield, drawing rifle fire from Japanese soldiers camped in the foliage along the field. Sledge could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he ran, and despite the noise, heard Snafu drawing in ragged breaths as he pulled ahead of him slightly. A shell exploded to Snafu’s right, knocking him to the ground. His head hit the dirt with a thud, the impact muffled by his helmet. Sledge threw himself down beside Snafu, who was gasping for breath._ _ _

___“Snafu, are you hit?” Sledge asked, panic rising in his chest. Snafu didn’t answer. The footfalls of other Marines slapped against the soil to either side of them, but no one stopped to help them. Sledge looked over Snafu’s body for blood or bullet holes, but found nothing. “Come on, you need to get up,” he urged. “We’re gonna get shredded out here.” Snafu nodded, but couldn’t move; his head was pounding, and he couldn’t make his limbs move the way he wanted them to. Finally, Sledge grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and hoisted him into a seated position._ _ _

___“Sledge, come on!” Sgt. Burgin yelled, waving him forward. Sledge crouched in front of Snafu, slung his arms around his torso beneath his armpits, and with all his weight pulled the man onto his feet. Snafu’s legs bore his weight, but he was still unable to walk forward on his own. Sliding his head beneath Snafu’s arm, Sledge grabbed him by the waist and pulled him toward the rest of their group. They were able to move forward at a steady pace, but not nearly at the speed of the breakneck run they had been doing before. Sledge nearly collapsed beneath the weight of Snafu and their mortar equipment as they made it to their group._ _ _

___“Is he injured?” Burgin asked as he and another man pulled Snafu’s pack off. Panting, Sledge shook his head.  
_ _ _

___“I think he got the wind knocked out of him when he fell,” Sledge said as he sat up. “He should be alright, just give him a few minutes.” Burgin passed him a canteen of water, which he nearly choked on; it was bitter and left a strange residue on his tongue._ _ _

___“Sorry,” Burgin apologized as Sledge returned the canteen, “This shit came out of an oil drum that must not have been washed so well. It’s all we’ve got for now.” Sledge leaned back against the shell of the airplane. “Have a rest for a bit, Sledge,” Burgin said, patting his shoulder. “I’m sure you had a long night.”_ _ _

___“Did we ever,” Snafu sighed. He had managed to sit up with the assistance of a corpsman that had just arrived with an incoming section of rifleman. Sledge glanced over to Snafu and met his eyes. Although the man looked exhausted and shaken, he had the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips.___

___***_ _ _

___The Night Before___

___“So what do we do now?” Sledge had wondered aloud as darkness fell over the battlefield. The machine gun fire had ceased nearly an hour before, and there had been no sign of enemy infantry around the shallow concrete bunker they had taken shelter within._ _ _

___“Might as well get some rest,” Snafu replied, folding his poncho into a makeshift pillow. “You can have first watch. Wake me up in two hours.” He closed his eyes and rested his hands on his chest. Sledge observed him as his breaths rose and fell, admiring the shape of his cheekbones and the dark shadow of stubble on his jaw that had grown since that morning. He felt his face flush as he thought about his attraction to Snafu. I’ve never so much as looked at a man twice, but for some reason…_ _ _

___“Feel you starin’ at me, Sledgehammer,” Snafu grumbled. His eyes were closed, but he reached for a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Light this for me, will you?”  
_ _ _

___“Uhh, sure,” Sledge said, taking the cigarette from Snafu’s outstretched hand. He fished a box of matches from the pocket of his pack, and struck the tip of a match against the strike pad. He held it to the tip of the cigarette, but it wouldn’t light. He tried rotating the paper in the flame for several seconds, to no avail.  
_ _ _

___“Shit.” He dropped the match as the flame crept toward his finger. It hit the dirt and extinguished itself._ _ _

___“Take a drag as you light it,” Snafu suggested, “or it’s not gonna work.” Sledge glanced at him from the corner of his eye; Snafu’s eyes were still closed, his hand still outstretched, waiting. Reluctantly, Sledge placed the cigarette between his lips, struck a second match, and inhaled as he placed the tip of the cigarette to the flame. He coughed as he passed the cigarette to Snafu, who plucked it from Sledge’s fingers and popped it between his smiling lips.  
_ _ _

___“Clearly,” Snafu observed, “you never smoked before.” He opened his eyes and turned his head toward Sledge. “What else has Sledgehammer never done?” He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a response. Sledge blushed and looked away.  
_ _ _

___“I’m not that interesting,” he mumbled, toying with a button on his jacket._ _ _

___“Well then, Mr. ‘Not that interesting’,” Snafu grinned, “let’s play a little game.” He passed his cigarette to Sledge, who accepted it hesitantly. “What kind of game?” Sledge asked, holding the cigarette awkwardly between his fingers, the way he had seen people hold them in films.  
_ _ _

___“It goes like this,” Snafu instructed. “I ask you a question: have you or haven’t you? If you’ve done it, I smoke. If you haven’t, you smoke.” He bit his lip and waited for Sledge to answer._ _ _

___“Alright, fine,” Sledge said finally. “I’ll play.” He felt a shiver go up his spine, a sure sign from God that this was a terrible idea.  
_ _ _

___“Ever drank a beer?” Sledge passed the cigarette to Snafu._ _ _

___“Course I have,” he said, frowning. “How old do you think I am?”_ _ _

___“Ever had somethin’ stronger?”_ _ _

___“Keep smokin’, Snafu,” he replied._ _ _

___“Ever had a woman?” Sledge was silent for a moment. With a sigh, he reached out and took the cigarette, taking a long drag.___

 _ _ _“Really?” Snafu asked with a laugh. “You’re a virgin?”_ _ _

___“I was waitin’ for the right one,” Sledge scowled, “is that so wrong?” Snafu shrugged, and continued._ _ _

___“Have you at least _kissed _a woman?”___ _ _

___“Sure," Sledge lied, returning the cigarette, “I kissed Mary Houston from Mobile, at a dance.” Snafu laughed, not expecting the answer. He was quiet for a moment as he thought of his next question. He looked at Sledge carefully before he spoke._ _ _

___“Ever kissed a man?” Snafu asked quietly. Sledge’s breath hitched in his throat. In the back of his mind, he had expected the question, but he was still surprised. He reached out for the cigarette, but Snafu held it out of his reach._ _ _

___“Come get it,” Snafu said softly, biting his lip. Sledge shook his head._ _ _

___“I lied,” he breathed. “I never kissed Mary Houston. She’d never even look at a fella like me.” Snafu brought the cigarette closer._ _ _

___“Well,” he said, swallowing hard, “you’d better come get this cigarette, then.” Sledge leaned forward to grab it, but Snafu threw it behind him. Their noses were an inch from each other. Sledge felt as if he couldn’t breathe, until Snafu put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him gently forward._ _ _

___He’d imagined it before, what his first kiss might be like. In his mind, it would happen on her doorstep, or under a tall live oak one warm Saturday afternoon. She would look at him with stars in her eyes, and he would make a witty pun before sweeping her into his arms. In his mind, he was dressed nicely, and had come to her door earlier that day with a bouquet of flowers, brought fresh from a field he had passed on his way to pick her up._ _ _

___It wouldn’t be planned; he would know when the moment was right. And that much was true._ _ _

___In a shallow bunker, whose cement had been ripped apart by mortar fire and eroded by rain, Eugene Sledge had his first kiss, warm and wet and desperate. Their clothes were mud-spattered, blood-stained and sweat-soaked; he had killed a man earlier that day. Snafu ran a hand across Sledge’s chest, across his abdomen, slipping a thumb beneath the band of his pants, and Sledge let out a moan that would have ashamed him at any other time. But that night, after the most frightening day of his life, all Sledge wanted was to feel something that reminded him he was alive._ _ _


End file.
